Family
by wildwordwomyn
Summary: Hotch, Morgan and Reid have an atypical boy’s night out.


**Title:** Family

**Word Count: **1,277

**Rating:** PG for implied incest and talk of divorce.

**Fandom/Pairing:** CM slash starring Morgan, Reid and Hotch. Mention of the Gideon (for some reason Rossi didn't make it into this one) and the ladies.

**Disclaimers/Warnings:** Set in general during season 3. No spoilers. Pre-Morgan/Reid slash.

**Author's notes:** Um, none I guess. Other than comments being highly appreciated and most welcome.

**Summary: **Hotch, Morgan and Reid have an atypical boy's night out.

Aaron Hotchner sits in his office desk chair staring at his black computer monitor. It's late, almost midnight, and he knows he should leave. The problem is he doesn't really have anywhere else to go except an empty one bedroom apartment he's renting ten minutes away from the BAU. No, the problem is he doesn't want to be alone. Not tonight.

"Hey, what're you still doin' here, Hotch?" Morgan asks, standing in his doorway, surprise evident in his expression.

"I thought you left two hours ago?" Hotch counters, straightening up in his chair as he opens a random file on his desk.

"Finishing up some paperwork from the last case…" Morgan watches his boss pretend to be busy. Then out of the blue he remembers. "Anniversary?"

Hotch gives up the pretense. Morgan's almost as good a profiler as Gideon. "Would've been seven years." His eyes narrow as he rubs his temples. He's got a fierce headache coming on.

"I'm sorry," Morgan replies in sympathy. For some reason he feels an irresistible desire to comfort the man, to hold him until the pain is taken away, but neither one of them would be at ease with it. Instead Morgan smiles and offers something else. "Wanna go get a drink? There's a bar down the street."

Hotch wants to say no. Drinking with a subordinate is never a good idea. Although Morgan is also a friend, he scolds himself. "Sure."

He doesn't bother cleaning up his desk. Just grabs his suit jacket and turns off the light as he follows Morgan out.

"Reid?" Hotch quirks an eyebrow at the young man while he turns off his desk lamp and locks his files up. "Paperwork?" Reid ducks his head and pulls his hair back behind his ears with nervous fingers, an embarrassed smile settling onto his lips.

"Yes," He answers, shrugging into his sports jacket. He grabs his messenger bag.

"Come on, Reid. We're taking Hotch out drinking."

"But-."

"I'll give you a ride home," Morgan tells him, anticipating the excuse. "And if you're not in the mood for alcohol you can get a Shirley Temple."

Hotch grasps the suspicion in Reid's eyes as he tries to figure out if he should be insulted by the Shirley Temple comment. Morgan throws an arm around Reid's shoulders affectionately. Hotch, because he still can't switch out of profiler-mode on personal time, notices other things as well. The grateful look Reid gives Morgan. How easily Morgan's hand rests on the ridges of Reid's collarbone. The fact that neither one of them look like they want to go home any more than he does. Reid's little intake of breath when Morgan squeezes his shoulder lightly. The determination hiding behind Morgan's dark brown eyes to not back down out of fear while he touches Reid.

"Coming, Hotch?" Morgan calls.

"Right behind you."

He can't help thinking they are the Three Musketeers. Or the Three Stooges. A ragtag bunch of misfits who fit in nowhere else but with each other. The idea makes him smile. These men, and the women who complete the BAU, are the family he has never known.

Morgan drives them to the bar in his Jeep after checking over the vehicle for anything out of the ordinary. Hotch refrains from saying anything to upset Morgan's ritual. It was a lesson Gideon taught him while at the FBI training academy and one Hotch still practices himself. Once seated at the bar Reid immediately heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.

"That boy's got issues," Morgan remarks.

"Don't we all?" It slips out before Hotch can stop it. The anniversary, the loneliness, must be getting to him more than he thought.

Morgan observes him. "That's why we're here. To let off some steam. Relax. Let our hair down." He smirks. "Well, yours and Reid's anyway."

"…Thanks you, Derek," Hotch forces himself to say, gazing down at the scotch he's ordered as if to divine his future.

"What are friends for?" The grin comes unexpectedly, shocking them both. "You know, I think I see teeth," he says teasingly.

"Figment of your imagination." But Hotch can't make the grin go away and he doesn't care. He's relaxing for the first time in longer than even he can remember. "Is he still washing his hands?"

"Eight times. That's the ritual." Both their heads turn toward the direction of the bathroom.

"Why eight?" He glances at Morgan, curious.

"You kidding? Eight's an improvement. It used to be twenty-five."

When Morgan faces him again he sees it. A flash of something in his face. A 'tell'. He wonders when it started, why he didn't see it earlier. Morgan's feelings for Reid going beyond friendship. He thinks maybe he should advise him against inappropriate romantic relationships. Then he considers why he's at the bar with them. He has no room to talk.

"How long?" he asks cautiously.

"What?"

"You and the good doctor?" He watches Morgan's face, keeping his own a blank slate.

"Reid? There is no me and Reid! He…I…" Morgan gives up. Hotch and Morgan are too much alike. "There is no me and Reid," he repeats. He doesn't hide the disappointment.

"But you'd like there to be." He waits for a denial that doesn't get voiced before continuing. "Does he know?"

"No. And he never will if I can help it." Morgan's dark eyes turn intense.

"The outcome might be different than you think." He treads softly but it doesn't matter. He can tell the conversation is about to end.

"Hotch," Morgan warns. "Don't." Hotch doesn't know the details of the abuse, doesn't know what all Carl Buford did to him. He's not sure if he wants to know, and what does that say about him as a friend? As a profiler he's made guesses…

"Anyone would be lucky to have you, Derek," he says finally, knowing it's the right thing when rapid wetness springs to Morgan's eyes. His soft smile shows his appreciation.

"Thanks, Boss, but for that you're getting the next round. I'm obviously gonna need to be drunk to get through the night with you two."

Hotch reads the comment as the deflection it is and chuckles in acknowledgement. He understands how being hurt as a child can wear on a man. The trust it takes to open oneself up to another. The fear of being seen. Of being left. Of being broken. For all he gave Haley he couldn't give her everything and she knew it. He didn't blame her for divorcing him or for taking his son with her. He wants to ask if Morgan feels safe with Reid because he knows how important safety is but he keeps quiet.

"Here comes the boy genius now," Morgan says with a wide grin when Reid finally emerges. Neither mention how pink and dry the younger man's hands are.

"Sit down, Reid." Hotch pulls out a stool between himself and Morgan. "Maybe if we get Morgan drunk enough he'll sing karaoke." He winks at Reid conspiratorially.

"One time, Hotch!" Morgan laughs though. From what he recalls of that night he didn't sound half bad. "You'll never let me live that down, will you?"

"No."

He grins, laughing outright as Reid asks about it. He watches the way the two watch each other, the way their eyes twinkle brightly. It doesn't matter that it's two men, that it's Morgan and Reid. When he joins in on the conversation he vows to himself to push Morgan a little harder toward Reid. Aaron Hotchner wants nothing more than for his family to be happy. If they need help getting there, well, then, he's only doing his job.


End file.
